Seasons of Love
by xoxoemily
Summary: A yearlong affair of love, lust, and everything in between. Puck/Santana.
1. Summer

_Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes-_

_How do you measure, measure a year?_

_In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee,_

_In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife._

It was the beginning of summer, and Santana Lopez was finally free. Free from Sue Sylvester's grueling demands, free from Quinn Fabray's looming presence, free from her parents' constant nagging about her schoolwork. Despite all of this, it was a very petty thing that Santana couldn't escape from most: the heat.

Sure it was the start of June and sure summer is supposed to be hot. But seriously, its Lima, fucking Ohio. It's not supposed to be 97 degrees at 2 in the afternoon. "This heat...is not okay," Santana thought to herself. It's actually kind of funny. Santana could handle being the hottest girl in school. She could handle getting hot and sweaty after three hours of Cheerios practice. But a little summer heat? Fly her to Norway, asap.

Santana wasn't used to hiding at home in the shade wearing a pair of Daisy Dukes she cut unevenly an hour before out of pure desperation and a hot pink T-shirt. She'd already gone from pajama pants to sundress to shorts. Santana had tried everything to cool herself down. She'd fanned herself with her mother's copy of Vanity Fair until her wrist felt like it was going to fall off, she'd drank four glasses of lemonade until realized she didn't really like running to the bathroom every ten minutes, and now she was cursing her tree-hugging hippie parents for not having air conditioning...or a pool.

Oh wait. She knew someone who had a pool. Or at least access to a pool...the one and only Noah Puckerman. Santana smiled, thinking she had finally found a way out of this terrible nightmare. But how was she going to get Puck to agree to let her into some housewife's pool? Sure, they'd flirted the whole school year and made out drunkenly at a few parties, but it wasn't like they were exclusive or anything. They hadn't even hooked up. Whatever, she was hot and that's all it would take. Sex sells; it's proven.

So she picked up her cell phone from across the living room and dialed a number she would soon have on speed dial.

"Hello?" answered Puck.

"It's Santana. I need a favor," she said assertively. She read in Cosmo that men liked women who took charge, and she needed all the help she could get.

"Well, you've come to the right place Lopez. What can the Puckerone do for you?" Puck replied. Santana rolled her eyes at how pathetic he sounded, as if he could get her to do what his stupid whores did for him. She had standards. At least she thought she did.

"It's too hot outside. Come pick me up and take me to one of your above ground pools you clean," she said.

To her surprise, all he said was "Sure, I'll be there in ten."

"Wait, seriously?" she asked. She expected to have to promise him a steamy make-out session, or at least some sort of begging. This was Puck she was talking to.

"Yeah. You get your wish, I get to see your smokin' bod in bikini. Win win situation, babe," he said. Santana had no doubt that he was smirking. She was right.

"Ha. Whatever, Puckerman," she replied before hanging up to find that red string bikini she knew would drive him insane.

By the time he showed up, she'd ditched the T-shirt and was down to the bikini top and the short shorts.

"Looking good," he whistled as she swung open the passenger door of his beaten up truck and hopped in.

"Always," she teased back.

They pulled up to a mansion on the outskirts of town, slipped out of the car, and through the gates onto a pool deck with a large pool of glistening, cold water. Just the sight of the pool elicited a shiver.

Santana was impressed. She liked successful men. She'd always imagined herself married to some hotshot CEO when she was old and wrinkly. Of course, she didn't need to be supported. She was going to work forever; she didn't need to be-or want to be-a trophy wife. "And here I thought you just cleaned cheap dinky pools. I'm impressed, Puckerman. You deserve more credit than I gave you..." she commented.

"I saved the best for you, babe," he scoffed. But he soon stopped, because Santana had shimmied out of shorts and made a perfect dive into a pool, showing off her excellent figure. The moment she landed in the water, her face melted into an expression of pure contentment. And fuck, if that wasn't the hottest thing he'd ever seen...

"So what do you say I join you, Lopez?" he said suggestively.

"It's your pool," she laughed as he shed his shirt and jumped in with her, splashing her in the process.

"Stop it!" she squealed. They continued their game of cat and mouse in the water, swimming back and forth, the sexual tension that had built up all year effusing between them. She'd duck out from underneath him every time he got close enough to have her. But then, she swam into the corner of the pool, with Puck hot on her tail. She was trapped. There was no way out. She expected him to whip a lash of invigorating pool water in her face, but instead he did something else.

He kissed her. Santana Lopez had been kissed before, and to be honest, she didn't really find it that enjoyable. She'd been kissed so many times that they all started to feel the same to her. But this was different. This was nonchalant and carefree, but loving and tender too. It could only be defined as summer.

It was a moment of weakness. She let her guard down and now she was involved. She let herself be charmed by him. She couldn't take it back, even if she wanted to. Now, she was stuck with Noah Puckerman.

And so, it was the beginning of a yearlong affair of love, lust, and everything in between.

**REVIEWWWWWWWWWW PLEASEEEEEEEEE. I have the next chapter written, I suppose I'll post it in a bit after everyone's had a chance to review and such.**


	2. Autumn

**Oh my goodness gracious, thank you so much for the overwhelming response to this story. I feel like such a lucky girl. :) Considering I don't even feel like this is one of my better written stories, I feel so...gratified. Thank you.**

In autumn, everything changed. The leaves turned crispy golden then into trampled mush on sidewalks. It was the start of a new school year and she was a bona fide, head bitch in charge. Well almost, Quinn Fabray had that position all locked up. But, that didn't really to her matter anymore because she had better things to think about.

They started "dating", whatever the fuck that meant. As far are they were concerned, she was happy and so was he. The circumference of his world was defined by the hem of her Cheerios skirt and she found herself being happy for the first time in a long time. It was a breakthrough.

But beneath that blissful facade, Santana was scared. Happiness never came without a price. That much Santana knew. Something was wrong. Something was too perfect. He was pulling away, she convinced herself of it, whether it was true or not. She knew there were temptations out there. She knew he could have so much better than her, and she was worried.

It's just...she was so happy. And now that she'd experienced true happiness, she never wanted it to go away, because if it did go away, if he went away, she knew she wouldn't know how to function anymore. She had to do everything she could to keep him in her arms. She was losing him.

So, she did the one thing she knew how to do best. The one thing she knew all the other girls couldn't stand a chance against. She sexed him up, every chance she got. In the car, in the janitor's closet, after school under the bleachers. She became exhausted. Dating Puck was exhausting. Loving him was exhausting. But so worth it.

But still, she didn't have any idea what the fuck was going with him. Why did he randomly space out when they were making out? Uh, hello? Did he have eyes? Look at her. She was hot. What the fuck was wrong with him? More like, what the fuck was wrong with her?

But here they were, walking down the hall when she suddenly grabbed her man by the collar and kissed him. Right then and there, in the hall the whole fucking school walked in. Just to make sure she still could. Instead of kissing her back though, he pushed her off.

"Jesus Christ, Santana. We're in the middle of the hall!" he exclaimed, as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. The same hand he used to punch social outcasts whenever he felt like it and throw wheelchairs off the roof for no reason. The same hand he only reserved for the most ugly of tasks. She was stunned; she hadn't expected him to just reject her like that. But at least now she knew the truth. There was something wrong with her.

"What is up with you? God, it's like all you ever want to do now is make out and have sex!" he continued. Those words were a shock for the growing crowd of curious bystanders gathering around them.

She should have been embarrassed, with hot shame creeping up her face. But instead, she was just broken. Her face was depleted, as if his remark had just sucked all the livelihood out of her.

"Maybe it's because you've been so distant! You don't tell me anything, and I don't know what's wrong with you. Don't lie to me because I know something's up. I'm sexing you up because it's the only way to keep you interested. But it's like that isn't even working anymore, so now I'm thinking it's the fucking Apocalypse. Please, Puck. Just tell me. It can't be that bad," she pleaded. In any other situation, she never would have allowed herself to appear so vulnerable in public. But this was a matter of love, and that made all the difference.

She looked up into his eyes, searching for a sign of forgiveness or anything really. His eyes only harbored a look of sadness. A look of guilt and pity rolled into one. She knew he was about to drop a bomb on her. Something that would change the nature of their relationship forever.

"Come on," he said quietly before pulling her into a classroom. He motioned for her to sit down. She did what she was told, apprehensively.

"I did something really bad, San. I fucked up," he said, looking down at his hands.

"Okay..." she said. She thought maybe he'd accidentally beat the shit out of Jacob Ben Israel or something.

"And god, I never meant for it to happen and I feel like such a jackass for hurting you," he rambled, but she started to protest. He hadn't hurt her at all, she thought. In fact, he'd shown her the best summer of her life. He couldn't possibly have done anything wrong. He was wrong.

"You don't even know what I've done yet and you've already self destructed. Look at yourself, making a scene in the hallway to get my attention," he continued, not letting her have her chance. Now she was getting kind of angry. He made it sound like he was her whole life, as if he ignoring her was the worst thing that could ever happen. As if something shattering were to happen, she would never be able to recover because she wasn't strong enough. But deep down, she knew everything he was implying was true.

"Please, just tell me what you did; I won't be mad," she begged. So it wasn't JBI. She was legitimately scared for what she was about to hear next. He was softening the blow.

"Yes you will, and I deserve it. I slept with Quinn and she's pregnant," he mumbled, his head hung in shame. She felt like a train just rammed into her side. She felt like her throat was closing up. She felt like the daffodils that had wilted in her garden last spring when frost came. She can't breathe.

How could he have done this to her? He spent the summer with her! Her! Not Quinn fucking Fabray! She trusted him. She gave him everything she had and more! She honest to fucking God cared about him! Despite all the pain she felt, her face promised nothing. Only a hollow, expressionless glare that she had perfected over time.

The worst part wasn't that he cheated, or the fact that it was with her best friend, or even the fact that she was carrying his evil spawn. It was the fact that she didn't even see it coming; she had no reason to suspect it. Noah Puckerman had successfully managed to pull a fast one on her. She'd been played.

"Please, Santana. You're the one I want. I felt like shit the second it happened," he begged. She slapped him before she could hear any more of his toxic words and walked out of the classroom, leaving the broken boy to wallow in his own guilt.

Three days later, she took back that sorry son of a bitch under the unspoken conditions that they were never to care about each other again. She put up her defenses and pretended like nothing ever happened. He complied. It was for the best. The way she saw it, shit happens and life goes on.

Oh yeah. In autumn, everything changed.

**Please review. It was because of all of the reviews I uploaded this so soon. I love constructive criticism and suggestions for the story. It keeps me out of writers block.**


	3. Winter

**Come on you guys! 3 reviews last chapter when I got 8 the one before! Did "Autumn" suck or something? Let's step it up! In my three wonderful reviewers defense, they were some of the best reviews in this entire story. Well, I had a snow day today, so enjoy!**

Winter brought a new frost to Lima, Ohio. Their "relationship" reached new lows. The air between them became chilly. She "forgave" him, but they both knew he wasn't really forgiven, but still, life went on. They were walking on eggshells. Every little thing he did he knew that she could, and would, use against him. He'd lost her trust forever. But luckily, she never did, because she pretended like nothing had happened. She walked away before they could fight. She scoffed when he tried to apologize.

Still, a few weeks before Christmas break, they broke up. For good this time. She couldn't do it anymore. She couldn't even look at him anymore without thinking about what he did. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't forget what he did. She couldn't deny the truth, and the truth was that he was the dirtbag who cheated on her with her best friend. So she ended it. She made up a stupid excuse about credit score, and walked away. He was left in the cold.

Whatever, he deserved it. He tried to get over her, attaching himself at the hip to his blonde babymama. He tried to make an effort with Quinn, but god damn, Quinn Fabray was a bitch. Like really. Quinn blamed him for everything, bugged him with her constant demands. Quinn just didn't get him like Santana did. So he was secretly relieved when Mercedes offered to take Quinn to her house. He wanted to go celebrate with his favorite girl, but then he remembered he didn't have her anymore.

Still, it was worth a try. Maybe the holiday season had made Santana a little less hostile. Maybe the time they'd spent apart cooled their heated emotions. He got in his pick-up truck, glad that he had shoveled the snow out of his driveway last night. He drove all the way to the other side of town, hoping that she would be home. He hoped she wouldn't be too upset to see him. Things between them were frigid…They had mostly avoided each other at school, with her sending him icy glares every once in a while.

He found her at home, in her own driveway. She was wearing an oversize ski jacket he'd never seen before and those horrible Ugg boots she pretended she didn't own. And she was shoveling her driveway. Well at least trying to. She looked like she was struggling and she was definitely overwhelmed. Santana Lopez doing physical labor? Gasp.

She looked surprised at his impromptu appearance. "What are you doing here, Puckerman?" she asked before setting her shovel down and taking off her gloves.

Puck breathed a sigh of relief, and tried to hold back the hope threatening to bubble from within him. This was a good sign; she hadn't made any snappy remarks or kicked him off her property yet.

"Just making sure you're okay, San. It's icy out here, what are you doing?" he asked.

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm shoveling my driveway. Who else is going to do it?" she said before picking up her shovel again. Her little brothers were running around the lawn, throwing snowballs at each other. The rosebushes Santana planted by the sidewalk were barren.

"You look cold, let me do it. Go inside and get warm. You shouldn't be out here, it's dangerous," he offered, taking the shovel from her. She gave him a look, but he could tell she was slightly relieved and maybe even flattered at the gesture. She wasn't as good as playing her game as she thought. He knew she was embarrassed that he'd caught her like this.

"I'm fine. It's not like I'm pregnant," she snapped, throwing the words at him like a dagger. He flinched, but didn't give up.

"Santana, please just let me do this for you. It's just a driveway. Go inside," he said. They both knew it really wasn't just a driveway. He slowly saw her expression soften.

"Okay, thanks Puck. I'll go get us some hot chocolate," she said, before walking in.

"That sounds great," he said and got to work, smiling.

"Boys! Stop hitting the side of the house! Mami's sleeping!" she yelled. The boys stopped, with guilty looks on their innocent faces. They ran over to Puck.

"Hi Puck! What are you doing here?" the younger one, Ezra, said.

"Just helping out your sister. How come she has to do all this by herself?" he said.

They shrugged. "Dad's on call. And Mami's sick again…" Ezra said before running off. Puck's heart dropped. He knew Santana's mother was a cancer survivor, and the disease had left her with a weak immune system. Santana was too young to handle the responsibilities of her whole family, just like how he and Quinn were too young to be parents. He continued shoveling.

"How come you don't come around anymore, Puck? Santana gets sad when I ask her. We miss you, even Mami. When you going to come play Mario with us again?" asked Ezra's twin, Parker. Puck had almost cleared the whole driveway of the pure, fluffy snow.

"Well, its not that simple, guys. I would come everyday if you wanted, but I made a stupid mistake. I think your sister pretty much hates me, and frankly, I don't blame her," he said. He finished and set the shovel down.

"That's not true," said Santana, who had come out of the house carrying two steaming mugs of hot chocolate, "Boys go inside, there's some hot chocolate on the table for you."

"Do we have to?" whined Ezra.

"Yes," Santana affirmed.

"Duh, Ezra. Santana and Puck are gonna kiss and do gross things out here," Parker said matter-of-factly. Puck chuckled. Santana sent him a death glare. He stopped. The boys ran inside. She handed him his hot chocolate and the two sat down on her porch.

"Wow, you finished that like ten times faster than I would have. Thanks for doing this, you didn't have to. It was very chivalrous," she commented. They made small talk, as if they weren't a pair of bitter exes who had too much to talk about.

"But I wanted to, San," he replied, taking a sip, "How are you doing? Ezra said your mom is sick."

"Yeah, well life could be better, but then again what's new?" she let out a bitter chortle. At least she wasn't being abused, or starved, or…pregnant.

"You know, you don't have to do this yourself. You shouldn't have to. I'm here for you Santana. I miss you," he said in all sincerity, turning his head to look straight into her chocolate brown eyes. There was a pause, a moment of silence.

"I miss you too," she said, turning her head away so he couldn't see the tear escaping her eye. It didn't work. He started to say something, but she stopped him. She got up, and nonchalantly wiped her eyes.

"I think it's time for you to go, Puck. I have a lot of stuff to do," she said and took the empty mug from him.

He suddenly remembered winter was her favorite season. He used to think it was because it was cold and icy, like her own ice queen facade. But then as he got to know her, he realized Santana Lopez loved Christmas because it was festive and jolly and just…happy. He hoped the recent events in her life hadn't ruined her favorite holiday for her.

More than ever, Santana needed a little Christmas. His finger grazed the inside of pocket, and he remembered what he'd been carrying around for the last couple of weeks, in case the occasion ever presented itself. He'd bought it a couple of months ago, when everything was happy.

"Merry Christmas, Santana," he said softly and put a small velvet box inside her warm hand. She looked surprised by his action, but held on to the gift tightly nonetheless.

"Merry Christmas, Puck," she said wistfully. And she gave him a sad look before walking inside into the warmth and security of her own home.

**Come on now, REVIEW! Theres only one more chapter left...Help a girl out!**


	4. Spring

**So finally, the end. What a wonderful journey it's been with all of you. Enjoy!**

Spring was a time for rebirths.

For Puck, it meant taking responsibility for his actions. He tried to do right by Quinn and their unborn child, helping pay for doctors' bills. If she wouldn't let him help raise their baby, he should put in some money at least, right? He also tried to mend his relationship with Santana; he'd apologized countless times for what he did, but she wouldn't have any of it. Figures. Why was it that even though he put in so much effort, he still came out a loser? By springtime, Puck emerged a man, a free one nonetheless.

For Santana, it meant taking the high road and focusing on herself. She took Puck out of the equation and ignored all his calls and texts. They hadn't really talked since the snow-shoveling incident, but at least they were civil. Truth be told, Santana knew she needed him but she was going to get over it. She always did. By springtime, Santana emerged an independent woman.

And for Quinn, it meant getting back to her life. Baby Beth arrived, then left in just a day. She would recover, she had faith. She was going to be the comeback kid. But none of that matters in this tale. The end of pregnant Quinn was just the catalyst for the fate of the Puck and Santana saga.

Santana had thought that after Babygate, things would be better. She was right. She found herself getting happier by the day, but maybe that was time doing its job. Certainly not the work of that bastard child. But just as everything was starting to look up, everything went downhill again.

Her friends were proud of her. Brittany told her she was better off without him. But she truly questioned that, because now that she was without him, she was a total mess. So wasn't that proof that she's better off with him? Even Rachel told her that she deserved better, someone who would treat her like a princess. But she scoffed at that too, because given a choice between a man who gives flowers and a man who gives oral, most women would choose the latter, whether they would admit it or not.

He was sitting in Spanish class, listening to Mr. Shue go on and on about the subjunctive. He was bored out of his mind, and he instinctively craned his head over to sneak a peek at Santana. But her seat was empty. This was a shock, because Santana never skipped class. She was a badass, but she wasn't an idiot. She needed a high GPA to be academically eligible for Cheerios, and Spanish class was her way in. She was fluent, after all. He automatically knew something was wrong.

He started to form a text under the table. She hadn't talked to him in weeks, but he might as well try.

"Where R U?" he sent. Just because they weren't together anymore, or even speaking to each other, doesn't mean he still doesn't care.

"Hospital" was the response. Simple and concise with a touch of coldness. A number of worst-case scenarios rushed through his mind.

"R U OK?" He was getting worried.

"I'm fine. It's my mom that's not" Of course it was. Santana was a bionic woman. She had always had the strength to fight through the pain, but her mother? Not so much. If something were to happen to Mrs. Lopez, Puck knew that it would be Santana who would be watching her little brothers, cooking dinner, doing housework. And she shouldn't have to.

"I'm coming right now" He made up his mind. Santana might have said she was fine, but he knew her better than that. He was a badass, and an idiot. He could skip class if he wanted.

"No, don't" Oh.

A week passed, and she still didn't return to school. Saturday morning, he decided to check up on her, again. He was pretty sure she was sick of his constant presence, but he didn't care.

He drove up to her house, and saw her kneeled in front of the many flower beds that surrounded her house. She was gardening, one of her secret hobbies that nobody knew about. But he did. Her hair was a mess and there was a smudge of dirt on her left cheek. She looked beautiful.

"Hi," he said cautiously as he approached her.

"Hi," she said and continued to rip weeds ferociously out of the earth. An awkward silence. The sound of a trowel dropping on the driveway. She got up and faced him.

"How's your mom?" he asked.

"She's in the hospital. The doctors think the cancer might be coming back so they're running tests. She's fine, for now," she said, avoiding his eyes.

"How's your dad?"

"He's at work, as usual. He says I might have to quit Cheerios because we don't have any money to pay off the hospital bills, even though he's been working overtime every single night," she says emotionlessly.

"That sucks" he grunted. She shrugged. "How are the boys?"

"They don't really know what's happening. I guess that's good. They keep asking when I'm going to forgive you for the 'super-duper horrible thing' you did," she said with a laugh.

"Well, when are you?" he joked awkwardly.

"I don't know. I think I might already have," she said cryptically, but her face remained apathetic. He suddenly noticed her neck.

"Hey, you're wearing it," he commented. A good sign. Her hand immediately flew to her collarbone, and she fingered the "I love you" engraved pendant that replaced the locked heart she used to wear around her neck. She was pleasantly surprised when he had stopped by last winter to give it to her, and the minute she had opened the Tiffany blue box, she was spellbound. The second his car disappeared from her quiet cul-de-sac, she put it on, and hadn't taken it off since. It was comforting, and despite all the shit that had gone down between them, it only reminded her of the good.

"Yeah, I love it. Thank you, you shouldn't have," she said quietly.

" You're planting again," he noticed. She stopped gardening last autumn, when things had gone south.

" They're for my mom's hospital room. She might be there a while, so I'm going to bring her some flowers to brighten it up, you know? Too bad I only have irises and dahlias," she said. She was rambling.

"Santana," he said. He waited for an answer. Finally she looked up.

"What?" she snapped. The whole small talk, let's be civil thing was fine until he mentioned her flowers. He knew she only planted when she was either really sad or really happy. Obviously, this was a time of sadness. And now here he was, preying on her vulnerability.

He took her by her hands, and looked straight into her eyes. "Santana, you're not fine. You're overwhelmed by everything you have to do now that your mom is sick again. You're skipping school to stay home and work. And most of all, you're scared shitless. Don't you think it's time you forgive me and we can go back to the way things were?" he confessed. His incredibly accurate insight scared her, but at the same time, she realized how well this boy knew her. She refused to meet his glance. When he lifted her chin up, he found her face stained with tears. He wrapped his arms around her, creating a cocoon of love and security.

She had forgiven him a long time ago, but refused to take action because of everything that had gone on with her mom. She just didn't have the time or energy to commit herself again.

"Shhh, it's going to be fine. Your mom will get through this. She's strong, like you. And you're going to get through this too. I promise, okay? Then we can get back to torturing Rachel Berry and making out under the bleachers and all that good stuff," he said, wiping the tears off her face. She let out a laugh, the first real one he'd heard all spring.

"Okay," she said. And that was all he needed to hear.

"Oh, I forgot. I brought you some daffodil bulbs. I remember you told me yours died from frost…and I know those are your favorite," he said, taking a small bag out of his pocket. She looked surprised, then she slapped him. What?

"What was that for?" he asked, shocked. He thought everything was okay. Really? Really?

"For cheating on me with Quinn. For getting her pregnant. For not realizing I needed you earlier. And for getting the wrong color daffodils," she laughed. The look on his face was priceless.

Then she gave him a kiss. The kind that made little kids squirm in their seats at the movies. The kind that reminded him why he loved this girl. The kind that had forgiveness, hope, and love wrapped up in it.

"What was that for?" he asked again. Could this day get any more surprising?

"For everything else," she replied, before kissing him again.

It was spring, a time of revivals. And for these two teenagers, it was no different. It had been a year of struggles, fights, and obstacles, but now, everything was going to be okay. They were Puck and Santana, lovers reawakened.

_Five hundred twenty-five thousand six-hundred minutes-_

_How do you measure a year in the life?_

_How about love?_

_How about love?_

_How about love?_

_Measure in love._

_Seasons of Love._

**Alright, so my goal for this story is 20 reviews. Right now its 16. Think we can go above and beyond? ****I didn't really like this story as much as my others, it's definitely not my best work. But I suppose that's because the subject matter was less mature. I tried to evoke the spirits of each season in each chapter though, with symbolism and word choice****. ****Let me know what you think, and which chapter you thought was best. I'm curious. My personal favorite was winter. I thought it was strongest and most poignant.  
**

**Hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving, until next time!  
**


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